


Ghost

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Professor Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha is Jensen's ceramics professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from [tumblr](http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com/post/82056469032/whispers-can-we-talk-about-twink-jensen-and).

Jensen signs up for a ceramics class because he needs an extra elective. The class is cool; he’s not very good at it, but the professor is super down to earth and patient, so Jensen doesn’t mind.

The thing is though, the professor has beautiful hands. And every time Jensen watches him throw, he gets a little turned on by the way professor Collins’ fingers curl around the wet clay, how his slender wrists move to accommodate the work in progress.

It’s incredibly distracting. Which is probably why his pots always turn out less than acceptable for a decent grade.

Over time, Jensen begins to be attracted to more than just Misha’s hands. His eyes, and the way he talks, using strange, large words nobody uses, and the unique way he dresses all embed themselves in Jensen and make him drunk with excitement each time he attends ceramics class. It’s a little ridiculous, but also the best part about Jensen’s week. 

He begins dropping little hints here and there, flirting with the professor as much as he dares in front of his classmates, but the professor always treats him like any of his other students and while Jensen understands, it still hurts a little.

Despite the polite rejections though Jensen’s crush on the older man remains.

 

One day professor Collins - Misha, as he’s asked his students to call him - asks Jensen to come back after his last class so Misha can discuss Jensen’s work.

Jensen thinks about it through all the rest of his classes. 

When he finally gets out of English 1010 he makes his way nervously to the art wing and taps lightly on professor Collins’ door.

"Come in," he hears and so he pushes into the professor’s office. 

"Jensen," Misha greets with a wide smile, gesturing to the empty chair across from his desk. Jensen drops into it anxiously. 

Misha reaches under his desk and comes back with a couple of Jensen’s pots. Both are crooked and quite sad looking and Jensen winces as the professor puts them on the desk. 

"You have to know I can’t give you a passing grade on these." Misha states. His tone isn’t condescending, but it’s also missing the usual snark Jensen has come to associate the professor with.

"I know," Jensen admits quietly. He glances down at his hands, unable to hold the professor’s gaze. For the first time since he started the class, he finds himself not wanting Misha to be disappointed in him. 

"The good news is," Misha continues, "I think we can fix this by correcting your technique."

Jensen perks up. “Yeah?” He asks, because he doesn’t really give two fucks about ceramics, but if it will mean Misha will consider him a good student, he’s willing to give it a shot. 

"Yes," Misha replies standing from his desk and straightening his waist coat. "Do you have some time now?"

"ABSOLUTELY," Jensen wants to shout, but he manages to contain his enthusiasm and responds with a casual, "Yeah, sure," instead. 

He follows professor Collins into the classroom and Misha turns on a wheel and grabs some clay.

"I’m going to watch you throw," Misha explains, "see if I can gather where it is you’re going wrong."

A nervous flutter rises in Jensen’s belly becasue all semester he’s been analyzing the way Misha does his work, but has never himself been watched this closely. He takes the clay anyway and approaches the wheel.

After only a second’s hesitation, Jensen throws the clay onto the wheel. It lands with a messy splatter, flecks of clay spraying up and landing on his forearms. He watches it spin around and around for a second or two before reaching his hands out to mold the clay. 

It’s quiet in the room for a beat, nothing but the sound of the wheel whirring steadily in the background, and Jensen swears he can hear his own heart beating in his ears.

After a minute, Misha speaks up. 

"Your wrists," he says, "they aren’t as flexible as you need them to be." And then before Jensen can even register what’s happening Misha is sliding up behind him, their bodies flush with one another, curling those long fingers Jensen’s daydreamed so much about around Jensen’s hands, and breathing soft and steady against the shell of Jensen’s ear.

"Can you feel the difference?" Misha asks quietly.

And Jensen wonders how the hell he’s supposed to concentrate on ANYTHING other than the fact that he feels delightfully like Demi Moore right now.

"Yeah," he finally chokes out, "I can feel the difference," because with professor Collins pressed against him like that, his strong, toned chest a solid line against Jensen’s back, he can definitely feel a difference. And in a few places he probably shouldn’t be feeling a difference, too. 

"Good," Misha states. 

Jensen waits for the professor to move, preparing himself for the loss of Misha’s heat when it leaves him, but it never does.

Instead, the professor slips his fingers between Jensen’s, humming lowly the tune to Unchained Melody. Jensen relaxes into the touch, a goofy smile growing on his face because that’s the snarky professor he knows and loves. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Misha asks, his lips right next to Jensen’s ear. 

Jensen shakes his head ever so slightly, afraid that if he moves too much he’ll scare the professor off. 

"Good," Misha says and then his lips find a place behind Jensen’s ear. It’s a gentle kiss, but it sends little shivers down Jensen’s spine. 

Misha works his way down Jensen’s neck, pausing to suck briefly against a particularly sensitive spot before pulling away. “Jensen?” Misha asks.

"Yeah, professor?"

Jensen feels the man smile against his skin before he mutters into Jensen’s neck, “Your technique is improving.”


End file.
